Restless Heart
by Lyndariel
Summary: Caspian begins to despair after the devastating loss of his family. Can a friend rekindle his hope?


**Author's Note: **I was searching the archives for Caspian and Drinian fics, and found that area sorely lacking, with the exception of a few slashfics. Ugh. So, I decided to try my hand at one and expound upon their friendship. I always thought they would have a more fleshed out discussion and emotional struggle with each other after Rilian's disappearance. Here is my take on that; I welcome all comments and constructive criticism. Oh, and yes, I do not own Narnia. But anyone could have told you that, right? ;)

* * *

_Then Drinian in the bitterness of his heart went to Caspian and said, "Lord King, slay me speedily as a as a great traitor: for by my silence I have destroyed your son." And he told him the story. Then Caspian caught up a battle-axe and rushed upon the Lord Drinian to kill him, and Drinian stood still as a stock for the death blow. But when the axe was raised, Caspian suddenly threw it away and cried out, "I have lost my queen and my son: shall I lose my friend also?" And he fell upon the Lord Drinian's neck and embraced him and both wept, and their friendship was not broken._

- A Parliament of Owls, _The Silver Chair_

**"Restless Heart"**

The cool breeze swept through the balcony rails and rustled the curtains beyond the open door. It was a gentle reprieve from the warmth of Narnian summers, and King Caspian the Tenth savored the wind's breath.

It was a curious thing, the broken heart. Perhaps it had hurt too much for too long, and the pain had lost its echo among the rhythmic waves around Cair Paravel, throbbing against his ears. Or, perhaps the pieces had been hurriedly swept into the dusty closets of its crumbling stronghold. It remained a mystery to Caspian, whose thoughts had grown numb and tired. He was wearying of his rule, and sheer innate character and intrinsic strength held him upright against this crushing blow.

The soft patter of footsteps shook off his reverie, but exhaustion prevented Caspian from turning to greet the late-night visitor. He maintained his forward gaze, his eyes thrusting through the banner of unfurled stars and celestial bodies.

The footsteps ended. Silence reigned.

"Speak, friend," Caspian said. "There cannot be a poor reason for one to seek me out when the night has worn on for so long."

"I do not wish to disturb you."

The familiar voice was comfortable yet cautious. The king smiled to himself.

"Dear Drinian," Caspian rose from his seat, and moved to embrace his friend. "The hour is late, and you should be resting." A hint of a smile touched his face. "What brings you to visit an old man at this time? The matter had better be one of importance."

Drinian urged Caspian back to his seat, and pulled up a chair alongside the King. "Must there be a matter for one to call upon an old friend?" he countered.

"At such a strange hour, indeed."

"Then, let me attribute it to a sentiment of concern for you, my lord. You find it queer that I seek you out at this unwelcome hour, yet I find it telling that you are sitting on this balcony, alone, while even the beasts have gone to rest in burrows and trees and holes." Drinian peered at Caspian through his peripheral vision, as the king continued to stare ahead, lost in thought. "Caspian," Drinian continued, the smallest hint of desperation in his voice, "Forgive me a moment while I speak as a friend rather than a subject: you must collect your bearings and reassure the Narnian people that all is well. They are afraid, Caspian, afraid! They need your leadership, your strength."

Caspian did not respond, and after a few moments, he rose and approached the rail of the balcony. Resting his arms upon it, he glanced upwards and heaved a sigh. For a minute, only the gentle chirping of crickets and the call of seagulls rang in the air.

Finally, Caspian spoke.

"Is it irony that Alambil, the Lady of Peace, smiles upon me tonight? For there is no peace; not in Narnia, nor in my heart. My family is obliterated: my Queen is dead at the hand of a deadly serpent, and as far as I know, my son is, too. The Hundred Year Winter that befell Narnia before the Golden Age has resurfaced and fallen upon my family, the wrath of it stinging cold, piercing will and courage and disparaging warmth. So, does Alambil smile upon me in mockery?"

He had spoken so softly, Drinian strained to hear his words. Approaching the marble rails, he stood beside Caspian and put a hand on his shoulder.

"My friend," he whispered, "I do not believe peace is entirely dependent on circumstance."

"You never lost a wife and son."

Caspian turned his head and looked Drinian in the eye. His words were soft, but coated with a veneer of veiled accusation and anger. He was quiet, but it wasn't a hushed peace; it was the calm before a storm. Both men knew it, and braced themselves for the inevitable explosion.

Yet the feelings boiled beneath the surface, and the conversation remained barely audible over the sloshing waters.

"Aslan help me if I ever do, that I should keep up my strength and be strong for others, too. Mourning and tears are not evil, but slothfulness and apathy are hateful vices." Drinian raised his voice. "My lord, do not mistake my words for callousness and cold, but for truthful friendship."

Caspian matched his growing tone of voice. "I would never consider you callous, loyal friend of many years and trials." He paused. "But you teeter upon the edge of insubordination."

Drinian knelt to the ground.

"I am deeply remorseful, my lord. Not for the words I have just spoken, for I have no regrets over those, but for the blade that must still be twisting in your heart and the growing bitterness: I will always owe you for the pain I caused you, for my silence that cost your son. Your mercy has spared my life, but I understand if we can no longer be the friends, the brothers, we once were. Please, Caspian, be forward with me."

"Stand up." Caspian's voice was rough, like sandpaper rubbing against wood. His knuckles whitened as his hands tightened around the rails, slippery with perspiration.

Drinian rose, but kept his head bowed, refusing to meet Caspian's gaze.

Leaving the rail, Caspian paced across the balcony, rubbing his hands together. His eyes were focused on his feet, yet a flame seemed to be igniting within the dark orbs. After lengthy moments of silence, he stopped in his tracks and looked squarely at Drinian.

"Let me be forward, then, if it seems my silence and subtleties have baffled you. My grief, my anguish, has nothing to do with you. I would not wish for all Narnia that it would break the cords of our friendship." Caspian's eyes softened with clear liquid, but his mouth tightened with resolve. "But I cannot take this anymore, Drinian," he ground out. "I cannot summon the strength that my people expect me to carry in unquenchable reserves! It is drained. _Drained. _All I have constructed in the years of my kingship are crumbling to pieces; how can any mere man hold himself together?"

Drinian caught Caspian by the shoulders as the king swayed. Tightening his grip, Drinian fixed his eyes on his friend's.

"Aslan."

Though Drinian's voice was hoarse, that one word, that one name, rang with power and clarity. It soared through the air, carried on the wings of the wind, and the mountains trembled with anticipation while the waters quieted in reverence.

"Do not preach to me, Drinian." Caspian's eyes were red, but he had steadied himself against the rail.

"I do not preach, only remind—"

"My family is dead."

Undeterred, Drinian continued, "Yet _you _are not. With all due respect, my liege, when will you begin to act like it?"

Caspian began pacing the balcony again, nearly in frenzy. His steps were shaky but quick, and the pale moonlight illuminated the wild look in his eyes.

"I am dead! I exist, yes, because my heart still beats and I draw breath, but that does not constitute living. Look at me!" he yelled, pausing in front of Drinian, forcing his shaken friend to look him in the eye. "Look at _this_." His hands gestured wildly at himself—his unruly hair, his wide eyes and old clothes. "This, Drinian, is your king. This is the nobility and leadership Narnia so desperately seeks. _This. _

"Why do you bother to utter the name of Aslan to me?"

The shock of Caspian's outburst seemed to cling to Drinian, yet he managed to collect himself and speak. "Because what other name can I call on to help you?" he refuted. Voice softening, he added, "And who else can offer you a reservoir of strength and peace?"

"He has given me none."

"Perhaps you have not allowed him to, casting him aside when you needed him most. Or you have not trusted him." Drinian's tone was quiet, not reproachful.

Caspian whirled to face him. "What reason has he given me to trust him?"

"Has Aslan ever failed you, Caspian? Has he abandoned you during your life, or given up on you? And, has he ever promised you that your life would be void of hardship and suffering?" Drinian waited for the words to sink in. "Tell me, my lord, has he ever failed you?"

The king staggered backwards, almost as if he had been struck by a physical blow. Then, the memories began to flood his mind: the Nurse whispering stories of the Great Lion to a wide-eyed, innocent child, keeping old Narnia alive and thrusting a last shred of ragged hope into the hands of a Telmarine boy; the rich, golden mane and solemn eyes that pierced his being and yet miraculously pronounced him worth of kingship; and the Lion who firmly kept his madness at bay aboard the _Dawn Treader_, reminding him of his duty to his people.

His Guide.

His King.

Caspian's hands were wet as he removed them from his eyes. Quiet sobs wracked his body, and he sank into a chair, burying his head in his knees. Drinian approached him silently, laying a hand on his shoulder.

They remained in such position until the king grew calm and observed his friend from behind red-rimmed eyes. "No, Drinian. It is I who has failed Aslan. I have failed him, my people, and you." Caspian's voice did not echo with self-pity and hatred, though. He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, clear and objective. "I lost myself in my own concerns, and forgotten that the concerns of the king ought to be the concerns of the people."

"No one accuses you of mourning overmuch, my lord," Drinian whispered. "It is no evil."

"Yet in my tears I have forgotten my duty. Worst of all, I have spurned Aslan, the one who has given me all I now possess. It is as if I was angry with him for taking away that which is his. Oh Drinian, what an ungrateful wretch I am!"

"We all are, at times. And yet, Aslan still looks upon us with care and forgiveness rather than scorn." Drinian walked over to the edge of the balcony, gazing out at the stretch of infinity. Caspian joined him, and he continued, "Remember the story of the Stone Table?" Caspian nodded. "I call it the story of amazing grace."

"I desperately need that grace now," Caspian choked.

Drinian was about to respond, but gasped instead. Caspian turned to him in surprise, and followed his pointing finger. The king's gaze drifted down to the shores of Cair Paravel, and he drew a sharp breath, too.

A glint of gold was moving alongside the water, treading the sand as the waves rolled in. Caspian blinked, wondering if the moonlight and starlight were playing tricks on his eyes, but the golden figure did not disappear. Despite his blurry vision, it was not difficult to see that the form below was a Lion, and not just any Lion. Instinctively, Caspian wanted to sink to the ground, to hide his face for fear that the Lion would turn his direction and notice the shamed king.

Yet he knew it would be to no avail, for more likely than not, Caspian was the very reason Aslan had appeared.

"Do you think we should go down to him?" Drinian asked, awed.

Before Caspian could formulate a proper response, he felt a warm breath on his face. It was cleansing and delicious, and his eyes began to drift shut. Sparing a glance at his friend, he realized Drinian had succumbed to similar feelings, and he appeared asleep on the railing. Caspian fought the sensation for a moment, then let go once he realized it was futile. He allowed the warmth to cover him, and it was as if he was sinking into the sweetest dream he had ever experienced.

Amidst the honeyed drowsiness, Caspian felt a breath tickling his ear, and a familiar voice whispering, "Have faith, restless heart. You will find peace again."

Then, Caspian's limbs grew soft and he sank into a sweet oblivion.

* * *

When he awoke, Caspian found himself draped over a balcony chair. He pushed himself upright and yawned, feeling far more refreshed in body and spirit. Glancing around, he noticed Drinian lounging in the seat beside him, also awake. The king smiled tentatively at his friend, the memory of his wild outburst flooding his mind again.

As if reading Caspian's thoughts, Drinian reassured, "The past is behind us. And look, a new dawn is about to break."

Indeed, the sun was peering shyly from behind the horizon, and rays of crimson and gold were flooding the dark skies. The waves continued to break endlessly on the shores, heralding the arrival of the sunrise and a new day.

"It is time to resume my duties, then."

Drinian rose, and then knelt before Caspian. "I am glad to see that my lord has returned." He clasped his hands and bowed.

"My king."

Drinian seemed to wait for Caspian's signal to rise, and a look of surprise crossed his face when Caspian knelt before him, too. Moving toward him, Caspian embraced his long-time friend. Drinian returned the gesture.

"My brother."


End file.
